I would like to ask you to just try to explain to a group that includes an eight, seven, and four year old that you are not, in fact, going to really do anything for your one year old’s birthday. Call me un-fun but my plans were to pull out the birthday caterpillar candle and Asher’s old birthday crown (three cheers for names that begin with the same letter!), sing him Happy Birthday, and give him a small (perhaps previously used by three older siblings) present. Done.
My other children were horrified.
And thus my fourth child made out like a bandit in the gift department.
On his birthday morning, Omar and I heard the older three go into his room and sing to him, and I’m all weepy just thinking about how cute the whole thing was.
So Asa is now one. He is walking and jabbering and asserting all kinds of opinions. I’m loving his age right now. I’m loving how every morning he gets pulled out of bed by one or more siblings and then finds his way to me to just snuggle with me for about 10 minutes. I’ve never had one do that. I love it.
Happy Birthday, sweet Asa. You’re the best.